Flashbacks From Mars
by Whipblade
Summary: My frist take on the guys pasts, how they joined the freedom fighters, got their battle scars and ended up on earth.


**I walk through the valley of death, **

**Where the wind howls and the heads roll...**

It was like death had found a face on the scarred surface of Mars. In front of him, deep craters filled with rotting corpse dotted the landscape that used to be the city Vein-Valley.

The stench wasn't as over powering, as it had first been when the massacre had first happened. Not a sound emitted from the fallen city, not a scamper of a rat, a rumble of a saber squid deep below the sand, even the squeals of squirrel bats were absent. The only noise in the city was the crunch of gravel beneath his boots. That, and the dull constant drone of various small flying insects feasting on the smorgasbord of death.

He picked his way carefully over the now deserted battlefield. Scattered weapons and various body parts littered his path along with debris from exploded armory, buildings and boulders from the fallen valley walls.

What appeared to be an abandoned motorbike, laid on its side. As he investigated closer, he found the rotting corpse of a biker still attached. The holed vest and pants only identified the poor soul as a local mouse.

"Sorry bro, I'm confiscating your ride." He said breathing through his mouth.

He waved the flies away then gagged as he saw the small, shiny white eggs the insects had so carefully deposited in the rotting flesh. Prying the rotting corpse skeletal hands off the handle grips, he kicked the once kin biker off the ride and stood the beast up.

The displaced maggots who had been feasting from the under side, wiggled towards their food source.

Inspecting the motorbike for damage, he was surprised at the lack there of, the gages all read full.

"Must have fallen before the battle even began." The light sandy voice whispered to him self. The bike, a knock off Classic Harley Soft Tail, Earth design. Black with silver accents, a mouse head shaped headlight, two leather saddlebags with steel studs. She was fully equipped, complete with Artificial Intelligence capabilities.

Adjusting and tweaking the settings for himself, he sat upon the bike. Looking over he spotted the previous riders helmet. It too matched the bike. Silver with a thick black band around the sides and back. Hopping off the bike, he set the kick stand.

His tawny frame didn't hold muscles or large guns. He was rather scrawny if anything, but well proportioned. Bending over he reached for the helmet, only to have it roll in his hand. The biker's neck had been sliced through and the engorged, twisted veins shredded with the motion. He jumped backwards as the nearly severed head dropped from the helmet. He screamed as a dung beetle scuttled out of the throat cavity. Slightly embarrassed at his lack of self-control he shook the helmet in case anything else decided to pop out. Chunks of flesh and green goo plopped out.

The stench of released tissue and gas forced the teen to drop the helmet and puke. . "Just get the helmet and go," he told himself in a bare whisper. "Help the living and remember the dead. Oh heck. I'm gonna remember this for a long time."

Wiping his mouth he retrieved the helmet before retreating from the dead. Searching the bike saddlebags, he found some moldy rations, a full canteen of stale water and a first aid kit. He also found some handy rags and bike polish. Discarding the rations, he used a little of the water and the bike polish to wash out the guck stuck on the inside of the helmet. Satisfied it wasn't going to get any cleaner with what little he had. He once again sat upon the bike and held his breath as he slipped the helmet over his tawny hair.

Palming open the visor he smiled faintly. "Don't worry about your bike. I'll keep her safe," he said to the previous rider now decapitated and lost among the rest of the casualties of a wars massacre.

He kicked the bike to life, the gages lit up and the small control panel beeped. The bike, long doormat ran a scan over itself, the helmet and the new rider. As if accepting her new partner, her motor purred to life.

"Well, looks like we better start scanning for survivors." he told his new bike.

Her lights blinked as they started forward.

He had known Vein Valley for only 5 years, but it was enough to know where to start looking. He headed towards the factories that had once taken up the eastern wall, now collapsed. The mill that had been manufacturing bikes for the army was now a heap of steel, stone and mortar. The third floor was packed into the first. He continued past the demolished factories, the lost homes, bars and clubs. He avoided running over as much debris and corpses as he could. The sun started dipping past the remaining rocky slopes, shadowing the valley in a cold darkness. With his head light breaking the twilight, he found the place he had once dared call home. It too was among the packed buildings. Parking his ride, he stepped off and made his way slowly towards the basement apartment window that faced the rubble filled alley. Broken glass and roofing tar was all he could find. Nothing, not an air pocket, a way in... or a body could he find. Biting back tears of frustration, sorrow and pain he returned to the awaiting bike.

The mines of Vein Valley were fabled for their minerals, but they had dried up long before the war ever started. Vein Valley had lost much of it's appeal over the decades as more and more business relocated to the Ashton City mines. When the scent of war arose, the few remaining valley factories converted their facilities to help the army cause. Only to have the government controlled Army, use the aid in less then meaningful defense tasks. Such as defending the Valley, after the fact.

The small group of Freedom Fighters appeared on the jagged ridge that over looked Vein Valley. Removing his helmet, the group leader sighed shaking his long chestnut hair loose. "We did all we could. You did well." he said.

A young blond looked shocked at her leader. "Stoker, the valley fell. We lost half out team... we... we failed." She all but sobbed.

"No Cheska, we saved as many as we could. There was nothing we could do about the walls. Too many tunnels ran through them, too few re-enforcement's to hold them stable against the heavy machinery of the Plutarkians. We did what we could. We'll honor those who fell. We saved over a hundred civilians from slavery, death and experiments. Maybe not a lot, but that's a hundred less souls the Plutarkians and Sand Raiders will get." Stoker declared.

"Hey, there's a bike down there." The rusty furred Mace said pointing to the lone headlight slowly winding its way over the twisted streets.

"Let's go see who it is." Stoker said revving his bike. "Freedom Fighters, Roll out."

The small band hollered and cheered as they roared down the dangerous slopes with ease.

He slammed on the breaks hearing the excited calls and motors. His initial instinct was to turn around and flee as fast as he could without looking back. But he didn't as the vehicles heading towards him weren't that of the slave drivers called Sand Raiders, but other motorbikes. The style wasn't an attack flank, it was one of greetings. He stood his ground, his bike revving nervously, mirroring his own nerves.

Stoker pulled a skid just inches from the black bike he didn't recognize. "Alright kid, what are you doing here, let a long on a bike?" he smirked sizing up the bike and the obviously young boy on it.

"I lived here." the tawny boy snapped.

"You survived this mess?" Cheska asked her blue eyes large with shock.

"No." pink eyes narrowed at the female in pink.

Stoker frowned, the kid had his defenses up as if expecting a fight and the tone he used was that of defending his territory.

"What's your name boy?"

He didn't say anything studying the Freedom Fighter leader. With a slow and drawn out, cold voice he said. "Throttle"

"Well, Throttle. If your looking for a place to stay, the Freedom Fighters are here for you." Stoker smirked as he revved his engine and tore off down the street. Cheska, Mace and the others followed in Stoker's wake.

Throttle looked over the destroyed valley streets he had been calling home. "What do you think, babe? Should we go with them?"

The bike gave a beep, her green lights flashing.

"Your call." he chuckled softly.

"We seem to have picked up a shadow." Cheska smiled bemused.

"Good, let him follow." Stoker said.

"He's just a kid. That bikes he's on is like a miss matched over sized piece of equipment. Far too big for that scrawny thing. What are we? Freedom Fighters or Baby sitters?" Mace snapped.

Stoker's eyes narrowed. "He's riding, maybe not the greatest ace, yet. But he's on a bike and he's turning corners perfectly. I've seen kids do a lot better than you in the field Mace. We can use all the help we can get."

Mace rolled his eyes. "Like you expect me to actually get dirty?"

Cheska giggled.

"Stoker, there's movement in Ashton. The army is pretty bogged down there." Radar, a cream mouse with long blond hair.

"TO BATTLE FREEDOM FIGHTERS!" Stoker hollered, his fist waving in the air. The group took an abrupt turn towards the mining city.

Throttle hung back as he watched the small band of fighters determined to keep Mars out of the stink fishes clutches, without the string and politics of the Army. They rode into battle, their guns blazing, their minds set and determined the mission will succeed. He sat there watching the free form riding, the wild and crazy stunts of the riders, the madness and insanity they caused to the Plutarkians trying to terminate their lives. And then there was the Army. In formation, not on anything but foot. Only guns and supplies. They looked exhausted. They looked determined. They... didn't look like they were holding up very well as they still dropped.

Not having really seen a battle of war Throttle's young eyes soaked it all in. Not the way most children would, not in horror, but in learning. The way the Army couldn't hold it's own, the way the Freedom Fighters were showing the Army up, saving their assess, the diversion they offered to keep the Plutarkians from causing anymore damage. Throttle, for all the shelter his mother had gave him, found himself smiling at the chaos that he was hell bound to join.

**2 years prior.**

It was a whim, a chance, it was something they had been dreaming of since highschool. The two of them had only been married for three months and it still felt like a dream, turning to a nightmare.

Her lilac fur meshed against his gray. The two had been doing so well against the invading alien forces, until the reinforcements came in. Rats.

She shivered, her top bloody. "I should have gone with your mama." she whimpered as their bunker became surrounded by predators.

Modo held onto his wife, the woman who he had lived, and the woman who was carrying their first child. He lobbed the last of his grenades at the machines. "That's the last..." his deep voice sighed. His arms wrapped around her light fur.

"I love you darlin' Modo." She whispered in his big gray ear.

"I love you t.."

"YOU! Reach for the sky!" A voice that put breaking glass to shame interrupted the twos moment.

Both mice stood up with their hands high. The rat before them was soon flanked by six Plutarkians, three on each side.

"Step away from each other, then slowly walk forward." The rat ordered.

Modo and his wife held tails as they parted to arms length. The couple took one step forward, and then it happened.

The rat with its pointy teeth, crocked smile and hate filled beady eyes snarled "Love is so over rated." While raising his high powered laser rife.

Modo braced himself for a potential fatal impact. But when the gun went off, it wasn't the tall gray male who fell. His sweet wife whom he loved fell with her eyes wide and her mouth a gap. Her brain couldn't even comprehend pain, she was gone before she hit the ground. Her chest ripped open, blood splattered the bunkers sand behind her, where she fell in mute silence.

"NO!" Modo roared while charging towards the rat. He had never felt such grief as then, never felt such rage as right then, without thinking, without worrying of the consequences, his gray tail slipping from the lilac accented one as he ran. The six Plutarkians weren't expecting such a reaction, and aimed to fire at the mouse who, by then tackled the rat. The two rolled in the red Martian sand, Modo's mind was blank with fury as he pummeled the rats head. The first of many Plutarkian weapons, nicked the mouses arm, he rolled dragged the rat in front of him. The six Plutarkians fired all at once, their lasers drilling holes into the not quite dead rats body. Modo yanked the laser rife out of the rats paw, he fired at all six Plutarkians, taking them out with ease.

The mouse, Modo, then tossed the rat to the ground. He walked away leaving the rat to gag on its own blood.

Stoker and the Freedom Fighters had been working their way south of the battle field. The Plutarkians hadn't retreated, but were falling back slowly as more of their numbers dwindled.

It was the feisty leader who hollered out to his group, "Circle around and keep this area clear!"

Knelt beside his wives grave, Modo looked up as a biker pulled to a stop beside the burial mound.

"Are you alright?" the brown mouse asked removing his helmet.

Modo sighed. "She didn't make it."

Those words, spoken by many who joined, or were helped by the Freedom Fighters during the war still cut deep into Stoker's thrill seeking soul. And yet, as much as he heard them, he still couldn't think of what to say exactly.

"You look like you need a rest, we'll help you." Stokers gentle fatherly voice offered with his hand extended.

Modo stood taking the extended hand. "My bike, she's..." He turned his head to see his once pride and joy lay in a leap of twisted metal. His lovers body had mimicked the same position.

"We'll take care of her, and you." Stoker said as he scooted up on his bike some. Modo, barley legal sat down behind the strange mouse offering something more than death.

"Ratchet! Bike retrieval!" Stoker yelled out.

A girl looking younger than Modo cared to see fighting in a war, followed in the wake of an older female. Together they swiftly gathered his bike.

Modo didn't look back, he couldn't, he was leaving the love of his life in the middle of a deserted battle field, alone. And it broke his heart.

**4 years later**

The white mice huddled in fear as the ground shook beneath them. All but one were frightened. One young boy on hands and knees peered out of the mines entrance. The battle below was like nothing he had ever seen. The motorbikes, the lasers, the excitement. "Mom look at all the blood."

She rolled her red eyes. "Get over here Vincent!" She snapped too terrified to move, to grab her boy mere feet away and haul him to safely. Away from the mines entrance.

"But mom!" Vincent whined. "The bike mice are winning."

She wanted a future for her family but knew there wasn't going to be one for any of her kin. "Vincent, no one can beat the Plutarkians." she said firmly.

"These mice are." Vinnie said in a state of awe.

Ashton was the only place he had known. The young boy was a lanky reckless kid who had found himself amidst a war during his rebellious teenage years. He wouldn't listen to his mother, wouldn't obey his older siblings, he wanted fun and he wanted off the leash his family seemed necessary to keep tugging on.

"WOW! A whole line of backhoes just blew up!" Vinnie gasped in respect of the brown mouse and the desire to be just like him, one day.

"Get your handsome face over here Vincent." His mother cooed as she reached her arms out to him.

Vinnie turned around rolling his eyes. "But it's exciting to watch." he complained pouting against the wall. "Better than looking at dead rock and empty floors.

His mother smiled kindly before her eyes widened in terror as the mine shaft they hid in shook violently.

"AHHhhhh!" Vinnie cried as the motion forced him outside of the mine. He tumbled uncontrolled down the steep slope of the mountain. Hitting his head against a rock, he laid unmoving.

Above his family screamed as the rocks and braces tumbled on top of them. None of them made it to the entrance some mere five feet away. Each scream cut short as their bones shattered under the mountain of stone.

"You'd think after a year the Plutarkians would stop trying to mine this town!" Throttle yelled as he and Modo forced their way through the rubble.

"Ah dunno bro, they seemed awfully determined." Modo replied keeping his sharp eyes peeled for movement. The rumble of a mine in the middle of the mountain over looking Ashton got most of the fighters attention. The few that weren't distracted, such as the Army gained a whole foot in the battle.

"BRO!" Modo shouted as he spotted the white object crashing down the red barren rocked.

"Left Flank Roll, number Five." Throttle ordered as he gunned his engine.

The two ignited their rockets and jumped over the ridge.

"Maybe number 3 would have gotten us here faster." Throttle muttered as he hopped off his bike. Kneeling down beside the kid with a possible concussion the tawny mouse sighed.

"Radio Ratchet bro?" Modo asked.

Throttle tilted his head watching the dirty kids chest rise and fall. "Yeah, radio it in." tilting his head up he gave a worried and knowing gaze to the mine shaft tunnel the kid rolled out of. The red and black smoke bellowing out of the collapsed entrance gave the tawny mouse all the information he needed.

Several abandoned mines had collapsed in Vein Valley before The massacre happened.

"Poor kid." Modo muttered as the sound of Ratchet's bike snarled coming to a stop.

"One of ours?" Ratchet asked, her blond fur streaked with dirt and blood.

"Kid just took a nasty fall." Throttle stated turning his attention to the female mouse bent over the young mostly white kid.

A young female rode up beside Ratchet "Need a hand?" she asked her blue eyes scanning the area.

"I'll have to take him back, he's hurt." She said placing a neck brace under the unconscious mouses head.

"Stay with the others Harley, they may need you." Ratchet ordered hoisting the youngster up to her bike and strapped him in.

"Battle isn't over yet." Modo reminded Ratchet.

"I know." With a sigh she pulling her bike from the others "I need cover."

"Hey, that's what we're here for." Throttle smiled as he jumped on his bike and flanked the medics' right while Modo flanked her left.

The three had just entered The Freedom Fighters HQ garage when the order for retreat sounded over the radio. It wasn't Stokers voice.

"I think that General Scabbard, is about to get an ear full." Throttle commented with a chuckle.

"Naw, several fists full." Modo grinned.

"Courtesy of our very own Stoker, of course." Ratchet gave a slight giggle.

"My money is on Stokes, he hadn't lost to Scabbard yet." Throttle inputted.

"I doubt that will change bro." Modo said causing the three to laugh.

**1993**

The dry Martian wind picked up dusting The freedom fighters in a thin layer of red dirt. Crouched down beside their bikes, the three waited for their chance to gain access to the Cycle Drone Thunder Pipe. It was their only option out of the Plutarkian controlled compound. All three of them still ached with fresh injuries they sustained before escaping the laboratory of an evil scientist, Karbunkle. The name sent shivers over their wounded bodies leaving a bad taste in their mouths.

The compound was nothing more than a scrap yard, sheets of various strong space metals scattered around. One space ship still stood untouched while its sister was only half stripped of her goods. Guards stood watching the fences carefully for any suicidal mice wanting to escape. None had tried so far, but that didn't mean anything.

Sirens continued to wail announcing the escape attempt, a couple dozen goons guarding the spacecraft scrambled away from their posts. However the shadow of Red Tower behind the freedom fighters hid the rear of their target ship.

"Now." Throttle whispered.

Taking a chance the bros jumped onto their idling bikes, and raced across the open compound towards the ship.

From the shadows Plutarkian goons charged, other goons changed course to intercept the fleeing rodents.

The bros reached the halfway point. "Give them all you got! We have to get out of here!" Throttle yelled.

Attacking the escaping laboratory subjects with everything the Plutarkian goons had, was evidently not enough as the three easily evaded while sending a barrage of counter fire the goons way.

Boarding the ship, they managed to lift off under heavy fire. Finally out of range the ship jumped into hyper drive heading for the asteroid belt, were they could hide until a plan of action could be decided upon.

Leaving their war, their home, their loved ones the three ventured into space not knowing what they were going to do.

"Any damage to the outer hull?" Modo asked looking over the controls.

"Not from this end." Vinnie said getting up to inspect for inside damage.

"No damage to the outer hull bro. But we're pretty low on everything else." Throttle muttered.

"Yeah, my gauges are all yellow too." Modo frowned his one mechanical eye looking out the windshield to the starry sky.

"Hey, uh bros?" Vinnie called the right side of his face covered by a silver mask.

"Yeah Vin?" Throttle called over his shoulder.

"We don't have any weapons, food or extra fuel on this things. The Plutarkians emptied it." Vinnie said shutting and securing the last of the space compartments.

"Figures." Modo grumbled.

"We'll have to find someplace to restock then." Throttle muttered as he checked the flight instruments for enemy aircraft.

"Saturn?" Vinnie suggested in a hopeful tone.

"You just want to see the races bro." Modo smirked.

"That's not a bad idea. We don't have any currency with us. We just may need that." Throttle muttered his brain already spinning with a plan.

Weeks later on Saturn.

"I can't get any word to or from Mars here." Throttle said low as he walked towards the center seat of their ship. "No hits on Harley either. Most likely she's still on Mars, somewhere."

Vinnie sighed heavily.

Throttle placed a reassuring hand on the white mouses shoulder. "We got food, fuel, supplies and weaponry. Let's head home."

Vinnie cheered up a wee bit at the home.

The three where kicking back drinking soda as they passed close to Earth on their way home.

"Ahh nothing like racing the cosmos is there bros?" Modo asked opening a can of soda. "Nothing to worry about, absolutely no... problems."


End file.
